


Of Many Far Wiser Than Me

by raynietheelf



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: College AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynietheelf/pseuds/raynietheelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haytham sees Ziio in a coffee shop for the first time. College boy meets working girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Salted Caramel

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Assassin's Creed fic, so I would really like to know how well I write the characters! Reviews are welcome. Thank you for your time. -Raynie

The coffee shop was bustling with people, but to me, it was like time had stopped. There she was. 

Everyday, I sat at the same table, by myself, and just waited for her to come in and order the same thing. A salted caramel mocha, double shot, and whatever baked good she saw first. The barista would ask her name, and she’d give it, but the place was always too loud for me to hear what she called herself. She’d pay, take her things, and walk right out the door. The entire ordeal would last about five to seven minutes, depending on how busy it was, and she’d be gone. 

And I would still be sitting there, by myself, sipping Earl Grey because it reminded me of home. 

The first time I ever saw her, it was a cold, wet day that reminded me of London. I’d stumbled across a neighborhood café that I heard served an authentic Earl Grey and I decided that that day was a good day to try it out. My informant was right. The Earl Grey was close to what my father would have served me, but it wasn’t the tea that made me come back for more. 

She’d come through those doors, a dark, exotic, beauty, who’s black hair was evenly plaited into two braids. She strutted in, all sorts of confidence, and batted those brown eyes at the barista. I’d never before wished to be another man, but in that moment, I would have given almost anything to have been him. When she walked out the door, she glanced at me briefly, and offered a sort of half smile before the doors closed and the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on disappeared into the grim weather of Boston in the fall. The next day, I came back at the same time, just to see her. She never failed me and was always there when I waited for her. 

Today, I would talk to her. I braced myself. She strutted up to the counter and ordered. Salted caramel mocha, double shot, and a sugar cookie today. She stood there, while the barista made her order. I walked up to her. 

“Hello.” My voice came out a croak, and I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hello.”

“I heard you the first time.” She looked amused. 

“I apologized. I had something in my throat. I was sick, recently.”

The barista handed her the coffee, and she took it without looking away from me.

“Is that why you weren’t here last week?”

“You noticed?” I was astounded. She’d noticed me? Heat rose to my cheeks, and to my embarrassment, I found myself blushing.   
“Uh, yeah. Tom,” she gestured toward the barista, “told me you’re always here at the same time I am.”

“Coincidence?” I offered. 

“Don’t believe in it. I’m Kaniehti:io.”

I stared. “Kaneh what?”

“What? To complex for a lil’ Brit like you?” She teased me. Teasing was good. “Ziio. You can call me Ziio.”

“I’m Haytham.” I told her. “Haytham Kenway.”

“Well, Haytham Kenway. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. My break is almost over, so I have to get back to work.”

I wasn’t ready for her to leave me yet. I’d only just met her. 

“I suppose I’ll just be here then.”

“Damn right.” She winked and waltzed right out of those doors.


	2. Burgers and Shakes

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I fidgeted with the almost cold mug of tea before glancing at my watch. She was late. For the first time since I’d started stalking, no, observing, her, Ziio wasn’t there on time. I had torn apart my napkin twenty minutes ago out of anxiety, I played with the little packets of sugar to pass the time, but nothing could hide that she wasn’t there.

Because of you, whispered the dark corner of my mind, and I very well knew that my presence could be a possibility. If the roles were reversed and I found out that some girl was essentially following me around, I would have never returned. Balling the napkin shreds up in my fist, I stood up to throw away my trash. I returned to my seat, gathered my things and left the coffee shop. I didn’t get far.

“Wait!” 

I whipped around at the sound of her voice. She was sprinting towards me, long legs bringing her closer, multicolored scarf fluttering in the wind behind her, bag banging into her with every step. Her face was tinged pink from the wind, and her hair was flying every which way, random strands sticking out of her usually neat braids. A smile started creeping it‘s way up my face. She was gorgeous. 

“Haytham, wait!”

“Ziio.” I grinned. I couldn‘t believe it. I though she would have found me odd, and not spoken to me again. The day seemed suddenly better. I stood and waited for her, her ballet flats slapping on the side walk as she stepped up to me. She grabbed the corner of my jacket and bent over, trying to catch her breath.

“Of course. who else?” she gasped. I rubber her her back awkwardly while I waited for her to recover. She stood back up and pushed her loose hair out of her still-pink face. “I’m so glad I got here when I did. I thought you’d left.”

“I almost did. I’m embarrassed to say I thought you weren’t coming,” I admitted.

“Well then, here I am,” she declared. With her hands in her jacket pocket, she gestured down the near empty street. “Want to take a walk?”

“I can’t. I have class.” 

Ziio blinked at me and pursed her lips. She opened her brown eyes wide and I could see my reflection in them. I groaned as I felt my will power crumble.

“Are you sure? I could just go by myself, then.” Her voice dripped with discontent and I threw up my hands in defeat.

“Alright, fine. Just this time, though. But what about work?”

“I just got off,” said Ziio matter of factly, like I should have already known. “Wednesdays are my short days.”

“Ahhh, I see.” I followed her down the street. “where do you work?”

“I work in a book store in the neighborhood. 10,000 words, is what it’s called.”

“Oh! I’ve been there! It‘s a very interesting store. How have I not seen you there?” I was familiar with the small shop, just down the street from the coffee place. It had a reputation as place where you could find originals. I, myself, purchased a second edition copy of Jayne Eyre from there for my sister.

“It’s really not that interesting, but thanks for trying. You probably haven’t seen me there because you’re probably in class when I’m there. I tried hair school once, but school is not really my thing.” Her laughter punctuated the air in short, white clouds. “So, Mr. Student, what do you do?”

“I, uh, I study political science,” I answered, completely aware of how lame it sounded.

She raised an eyebrow. “That sounds… interesting?”

We’d arrived at the park. At this time of the year, instead of being green and robust, it was stark and brown. The only color was the occasional white duck. I wondered why they hadn’t flown south yet, since the days were getting so cold. If I wasn’t used to the wind’s bite, I know I would. Shuffling my feet, I turned my attention back to Ziio.

“It’s not. My father wanted me to study it. It’s really boring, but if it means I’ll get a job, then that’ll be worth it. But I don’t know if that’s what I wan-”

I was distracted by Ziio digging around in the bag by her side. She emerged with a plastic baggie full of bread. I stared at her.

“It’s for the ducks,” she explained, taking a fistful and tossing it down into the pond. The ducks gathered around, quacking and squabbling over the crumbs of stale bread. 

I put my hands into my coat pockets and cleared my throat. “Do you do this often?”

“Yes. No. Well, I don’t know. About twice a month? Is that considered often? Whatever. I like coming here. It‘s peaceful.” she answered, handing the bag to me. We stood in silence and threw bread at the fowl stupid enough to attempt a winter in New England. 

After maybe an hour of meaningless chitchat, we ran out of bread. The ducks quacked at us as we walked away. My stomach broke the silence with a loud growl and Ziio laughed.

“You’re hungry. I know a great diner not far from here.”

 

I looked at her. “You aren’t tired of me yet?”

 

“No. Surprisingly, not,” she said, shaking her head. “I like talking to you. You listen.”

“You have interesting things to say,” I told her, truthfully. She smiled, and reached for my hand and lead me down the street to yet another adventure.

The walk to the diner was a brief one, one made brisker in the falling temperatures of Boston. We darted from shop to shop, trying to keep our temperatures up and laughing the whole way to Sandy’s Diner, where, according to Ziio, they served the ‘best goddamned cheese burgers you’re going to find.’

The diner was a typical corner diner, with the red vinyl standard to old American restaurants, and the checkered tiles that I was almost not expecting, due to the clichéd appearance they added to. Ziio led me in and waved at a red headed waitress and grabbed two menus before dragging me into a booth. 

“I take it you come here often?” I remarked. 

“No. I used to work here. But the food is so damn good I keep coming back,” she said, taking her seat across from me. I opened the menu and glanced at the list of entrees.

“How is the roast beef here?” I asked her. 

“It’s amazing. I recommend the mashed potatoes with that though. Mmmm… I could go for some myself, but I think I’ll have the burger,” she mumbled, that last bit mostly to herself. 

The waitress came by, the same red head that Ziio waved to earlier. “Ziio! It’s been a while! Who’s your friend?”

“Kim, this is Haytham. He’s someone I found around here and forced to hang out with me.” Her grin stretched from ear to ear and I just shrugged in response.

“That sums it up pretty accurately,” I agreed. 

“Ooh, a British man. Ziio, who knew you could find one of them around here?” 

“I’m a student. Studying.. At the University.” 

“Nice to meet you, dear.” Kim held up her notepad. “Are you ready for me to take your orders, or do you need a minute?”

“I think we’re ready,” Ziio answered, then took a deep breath. “I will have the double cheeseburger, no tomatoes, extra pickles, a double order of fries and a chocolate milkshake, two straws. And you?” She directed the question at me. 

“I will have the roast beef and a helping of mashed potatoes and a glass of water, no ice.” Kim jotted both of our orders down and left with a wave. Ziio glanced at me, biting her lip.

“I probably sound like a huge pig, huh?”

I stared at her. Pig was not one of the words I would have used to describe her. “Not at all. You’re just hungry.”

“Are you lying to make me feel better?” She pointer her fork at me, accusingly. 

“No! Ziio, I would never!” I consoled her. “and, two straws? What makes you assume that I like chocolate milkshakes?”

“I like chocolate milkshakes. What makes you assume that the other straw was for you?”

“Touche.” I laughed. 

“But really? You don’t like chocolate milkshakes? You drink hot chocolate, Tom told me, so I figured… you know. I figured you‘d like chocolate.” She looked almost hurt.

“I do, I promise. I just wanted to know your reasoning behind it.” 

“Well, we’re at a diner. It’s already a cliché. Why not share a milkshake?” We were interrupted as the waitress brought our food. Kim set my plate in front of me and the aroma was so enticing, I couldn’t help but dig right in. Out of my peripherals, I could see Ziio was doing the same thing, cramming three fries into her open mouth and sighing. I could smell the fries from where I sat. 

“This definitely beats out studying,” I told her, eating another spoonful of the best mashed potatoes ever. 

“Well, duh. Studying is boring. I’m fun.” Chew, chew, chew.

“Indeed.” Scraping fork, scraping knife, shuffle shuffle, eat.

Together, we feasted, Ziio stuffing her face with cheeseburger as I stole French fries when she wasn’t looking and laughed in her face when she caught me. We made short work of the milkshake, shivering as the ice brought our internal temperatures lower in an already cold climate. I was happier than I had been in a while, in Sandy’s Diner, with Ziio.

After the meal was done, and we were both suffering from our shared gluttony, I glanced at my watch. “Ziio. The time. I need to go. I have class in the morning.”

“Ah, that’s fine. I have work. I should probably go, too.” She seemed almost regretful. “Kim! Check please!”

Kim bustled over with a check. I reached for my wallet and Ziio tried to stop me.

“Haytham, it’s alright. I dragged you here.” I ignored her and handed over my credit card. Kim took it with a wink. Ziio looked furious.

“I said it was alright. You didn’t need to pay for me.”

“Ziio, honestly, I don’t mind. I enjoyed myself.” She narrowed her eyes.

“Haytham,” she asked, suspiciously, “ was this a date?”

I paused and observed her before answering. “Do you want it to be?”

“Yes.,” she answered, without batting an eye. 

I smiled. “Then it is.” 

“Well, walk me back to my car then,” she demanded. So I did. 

When Kim brought my card back, I threw a $10 bill on the table for tip and helped Ziio put her coat back on. We took the long way back, despite the cold, our fingers intertwined. She told me about her tribe and her family, I told her about London and Jenny. We learned more about each other in that twenty minute walk than I had learned about her in the entire evening we’d spent together. I was disappointed when we finally reached her green Pontiac. 

“So,” I said, shuffling my feet. Ziio played with the end of her braid. 

“So,” she repeated me. 

“Um, is this something you would do again?” I felt the need to get the question out. Ziio waltzed into my life with the grace of a freight train and I wasn’t ready to let her go. I held my breath waiting for her answer. After what felt like an eternity, Ziio bit her lip.

“Haytham. I had a great time. What about Friday or Saturday?” I felt like my face would split in half. 

“Saturday would be wonderful. I can come pick you up, if you’d like.”

“That would be perfect. I’ll see you then.” Heart in my throat, I leaned forward and did what I’d wanted to do all night. I kissed her. 

If I hadn’t been so over eager, the kiss would have been perfect, but I failed, epically. Instead of the soft, romantic peck that I anticipated, I missed and ended up planting the kiss on her upper lip, by her nose. Ziio burst out laughing, puncturing a titanic hole into my ego.

I grimaced and scratched my head. “I’ll see you Saturday?”

“Only for you to fix whatever that was,” she snorted, then climbed into her car. She waved and drove off, leaving me standing in the empty parking lot, kicking myself.

“I will fix it,” I promised. Saturday couldn’t come any sooner.


	3. Cabaret Sauvignon

After that Wednesday, impromptu date with Ziio, I had a hard time doing anything but think of her. Instead of impeccable notes, I had page after page of her name in various fonts and colors of highliter. My classes were only blobs on my calendar where I counted down the days until Saturday. It was like I was a teenage girl with a crush. All I was missing was the four poster bed and the small dog. At least I had her number, though it wasn’t doing me any good at the moment. She was so blasé, she didn’t care at all, so I still had no idea where I wanted to take her for our date, other than my reservation to Dalliance, or what to wear for that matter. I sighed as I threw yet another shirt into the corner of the room. 

“Having trouble there, Haytham?” Charles asked me, without looking up from his notes. I tossed a pillow at him, and smiled, smugly, as he flinched.

“Shut up. I just…” I sighed again. “Charles, I don’t know what to wear and it‘s almost six.”

“Obviously. You’re trying on your entire closet for one girl. What’s so special about her?” Charles stood up and went into his own closet. “She must be gorgeous.”

“She is,” I agreed. “But that’s not why. She’s just- she’s interesting. I don’t know how to describe her.” I caught the shirt he threw at me and pulled it over my head. Good enough. It was different from what I’d normally wear, just a navy blue long sleeved shirt in the place of my usual knitted sweaters. 

“See? That’s way better than your stupid ’jumpers’ and vests.” I scowled, but ignored him. Grabbing my keys, I stuffed my wallet into my jacket pocket and waved at Charles before slamming the door behind me. I jogged to my car, my hands shaking with excitement when I groaned. I still had no idea where to take her. I opened my phone and turned on the GPS. 

The directions led me into one of the poorer neighborhoods, where the ‘artsy’ people lived. I pulled up in front of her apartment building and sat for a second, trying to calm my nerves. This was technically our first official date. Lump in my throat I walked up the door of the building and pressed the buzzer. 

“Hello?” Ziio’s voice came crackling over the speakers.

“It’s me. Haytham,” I answered. 

The sudden buzz caused me to jump, but I collected myself and opened the door. I knew she was on the third floor, so I made my way up there, but when I reached it, I had no idea where to go. Before I could take my phone out, I heard the door open.

“In here,” she called. 

I followed her into her small apartment. I glanced around the kitchenette and noticed how clean everything was. The living room had a couch, a coffee table with some magazines on top (Cosmopolitan. Nice.) and a stand with a small TV on it. I watched her form retreat down the small hallway that I assumed led into her bedroom. She turned to face me and I blinked. Whenever I’d seen her, she was usually wearing no make up. She had dark brown eyeshadow on, I could tell, and mascara. Maybe some rouge? I didn’t know, but didn’t care. She was perfect. 

“You know, you can come back here,” she mocked me. 

“I didn’t know if that would be,” I hesitated. “Proper?”

She laughed and grabbed my hand and led me down the hall. “Who cares? I don’t want my room mate seeing you and stealing you or something.” There is no woman alive who could steal me from you. 

Her room was small, about a third of the room that Charles and I shared. There was box after box of various junk foods taking up space in one of the corners of the room. On the floor, there were stacks of books covering various subjects. Most of them, I noticed, were myths from cultures around the world. Her laptop was open on the small desk, along with papers scattered all over the surface. There were half empty water bottles littering the floor. The lofted bed was made, the turquoise comforter neatly covering black sheets. 

 

“Black sheets, huh?” I couldn’t help but remark. Ziio punched me in the arm.

“Pervert. I’m almost done. I just have grab a couple things, and then we’ll go.”

“Take your time.” I could use it to find something for us to do, after we finished eating. 

“Where are we going anyway?” Ziio stepped out of the bathroom and grabbed a purse.

“You’ll see. Are you ready?” She nodded and I lead the way back down to my car. When she saw it, Ziio let out a whistle. 

“Wow. A Hyundai Genesis. Nice.” 

“It’s alright, I guess,” I muttered, running my fingers through my hair. I opened the passenger seat door for her. She tipped her head at me and climbed in. 

I got in to find her fiddling with my radio. The contents of my glove compartment were strewn across her lap. 

“What are you doing?”

“Listening to your music,” she answered, nonchalantly, putting the contents of my glove compartment back, neater than they were before. The familiar strains of Mumford and Sons pulsed through my stereo. 

“Good choice,” I told her, then pulled away from the curb. 

We rode in silence, other than Ziio occasionally singing along with the track. She stared out the window and I sat there, trying to think of a conversation starter. At least Dalliance wasn’t too far from where she lived. 

“Is that…” she gasped. The lights of downtown glittered in her eyes, like some cliché out of a romance novel. 

“Dalliance? Yep.” I pulled up and got out, opening the door for her. Grasping my hand, she climbed out. I handed my keys to the valet and offered Ziio my elbow. Without a word, she linked arms with me, staring every which way and taking in the sights.

“Holy shit,” she whispered when she saw the inside. 

Dalliance was known for being one of the nicest restaurants in town. I hadn’t seen it before, but Charles assured me that it would definitely please her. I almost groaned out loud. I had never seen a more ostentatious place in my entire life. Chandeliers dripping with crystals dangled from the gilded ceilings. There were candles everywhere, causing a potential fire hazard. Ziio, on the other hand, looked completely awestruck.

“Kenway,” I told the maitre d’. She led us to a secluded table by the back and handed us the gold menus with the command to enjoy. I pulled the chair out for her and she sat down and immediately grabbed the menu.

“Holy shit,” she repeated herself. “This is really expensive.”

“I know! I can’t believe I actually listened to Charles and got a reservation here. It’s so obnoxious,” I groaned.

“Well I hope the food is worth it.” She kept reading. “Would you be angry if I ordered a steak?”

I shook my head. “No. Order whatever you want.”

One of the waitresses came up. “Hello. My name is Jessica. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“I would like a glass of water, and I’d like to order a bottle of wine. The Cabaret Sauvignon, please.” I handed the waitress our ID’s, while Ziio ordered herself a glass of water as well. 

“I’ll be back with your drinks, shortly,” she said before marching off to take someone’s order. 

“Why the bottle?” Ziio asked.

“Well, I wanted a glass, but Charles says it’s worth it to just buy a bottle. Besides, this way we can have some later, if we want,” I answered her, rearranging my silverware. Now that I had her on this date, I didn’t know what to do. It was surreal. 

“That’s smart.” Ziio was mirroring me. She fiddled with the wine glass, trying to wipe her own finger prints off of it, then rearranged all her silverware, before unfolding the napkin and setting it in her lap. “What are you getting, anyway?”

“Steak. Steak and mac’ and cheese.” I laughed.

“That’s so childish. Of course you’d get the mac’ and cheese.”

“It’s a classic. I love mac’ and cheese.” She played with the silverware some more while waiting for the waiter. The clattering of the constant moving of the silverware was starting to irritate me. I reached out and grabbed her hand. She looked up in shock and I pulled my hand away. Before things got awkward, the waitress returned and poured us both a glass of wine and set down the cups of ice water. 

“Can I take your order?” 

“I want the tenderloin, an 8 oz, medium rare, with the mac’ and cheese,” Ziio said, then handed the menu to the waitress. I told Jessica that I would have the same thing, cooked medium, and she left with our orders.

“Same as me?” Ziio stuck her tongue out.

“It sounded good! Besides, I can order whatever I want, since I’m paying.” I stuck my tongue out back at her. She laughed and sipped at her wine. The wine tinted her lips a dark red. She noticed me watching her and set the cup down. 

“So, Haytham, you don’t have a job?” 

“No. I guess you could say my Father pays for my things.”

“You could say?”

“Alright, he pays for me to attend school. But I graduate after next semester, so I should start looking for something after I graduate.”

Ziio picked up her silver ware and continued to mess with it. I rolled my eyes.

“Playing with the silverware again, Ziio?” She stuck her tongue out at me again, but stopped when I grabbed her hand. Instead of pulling away, she interlaced her fingers with mine. 

“That’s much better,” she whispered. I groaned as the waitress brought the food and I was forced to let go. 

During the dinner, sometime between our conversation about if ducks or geese were smarter and why Doctor Who trumped Supernatural, I made lists of various things to do, but none of them seemed special enough to take her to. The meal was exceptional, which I hoped it would be, since the final tab was much more than I anticipated. I paid, tossed a twenty on the table for the waitress, and lead Ziio out of the restaurant, deciding just to see where the night took us.

The air outside had taken on that familiar chill when we huddled back in my car after the valet returned the keys to me, fingers locked for warmth while the vehicle heated up. I made it about three blocks away before Ziio turned from minor irritation to full on distraction. She was shivering and leaned in closer to me, trying to seek heat. I found as spot to park while I waited for the seat warmers to take effect, laughing at the fact that all I could hear over the sound of the air was Ziio’s teeth chattering. 

“Sh-sh-shut up,” she hissed, through clenched teeth, her face buried in my chest. I wrapped my arms around her. “I-I-I-I bet that L-London isn’t this c-cold.”

“It’s not as cold as Boston,” I agreed. We were so close, I could feel every movement she made. I pressed my palms flat against her cheeks and held her face. With my last failed kiss vivid in my mind, I leaned forward to try again. 

Her mouth was warmer than I expected, almost too hot in the near subzero temperatures of the Boston night. I could feel her pull away almost, before kissing me back completely, her lips moving against mine in a way that I was completely sure she was putting as much thought into it that I was. Her arms moved from her sides to my chest, fingers grasping at my jacket. I could taste her last glass of wine just as sure as I could taste her. I closed my eyes and I could feel my heart beat quicken as she slipped her tongue in my mouth. After minutes that felt like hours, or hours that felt like minutes, I honestly didn’t care, she untangled herself from me and sat up straight, smoothing her hair back down, a blush covering her cheeks, our breaths mingling in the warming air.

“An improvement, I must say,” she said after a moment, still breathless. I grimaced.

“Yeah, well, I did say I was going to fix it.”

“Consider it fixed, Mr. Kenway, although there was room for improvement.” She smiled that wolfish grin I loved. 

“I never shirk from a challenge.” I leaned back into her when she leaned away.

“I hope you’re not just trying to seduce me, Haytham,” she scolded. 

I laughed, then it dawned on me. “I promise I’m not. Do you like art?”

“Depends.”

“Bad art?”

She pumped her fist in the air. “Hell, yeah! Who doesn’t like a chance to make fun of bad art?”

I smiled as I pulled away from the curb. “Bad art it is, but first, I’d like some hot chocolate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually write this fast. I just had this posted to ff.net, but am transferring some of my things over. Reviews are lovely. Thanks for reading! -Raynie


	4. I'd rather get Slushied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glee, Jeopardy and roommates.

It seemed that the little family owned Café where Ziio and I met held some sort of gravity over us. We couldn’t get away from it.

After our first date, we continued to meet at the café for five, ten, minutes a day, Ziio usually arriving after me. The table in the corner became known as our table, and Tom would tell the other patrons that the seats were reserved, guaranteeing Ziio and I the same place to sit, every day. Week after week, I had our schedules down to an art from, since there was usually no cause for deviation. 

Today was no different. I ordered both of our drinks, tea for me, salted caramel mocha with double shot and a biscuit for Ziio, after a brief conversation with Tom, I sat down. Right on cue, I heard the familiar ding of the bell and Ziio came storming in. Without looking up from my notes I pushed her coffee out at her and handed her the biscuit, while she sat down, raging about another irritating customer who considered themselves more well read than her. 

“I work in a fucking book shop, Haytham. What do you think I do on slow days?” she hissed. “I think I’m pretty well read, don’t you? Apparently, not according to mister ‘I read the Divine Comedy in it’s original Italian.’”

“Hmm,” I hummed in agreement, scribbling down another sentence of sociology. 

“Excuse me, can you have someone else help me? I don’t think you know what I’m talking about. Bullshit.” She continued raging like this for a couple more minutes, then sat down, sipping at her cooling coffee. “So, Hayth, how’s your school going?”

“I have a sociology test on Monday that I need to study for.” 

“Does that mean we can’t hang out this weekend?”

“No, we can still hang out.” I looked up at her. There was nothing that I considered more important that spending time with her, not that she knew that. Her face brightened with a smile.

“Good. Since my shows are coming back on, I need to catch up. And so do you, since you’ll watching with me.” She threw her head back as she chugged the rest of her coffee and leaned over to quickly peck at my lips. “Bye, see later.”

“Later,” I mumbled. I turned my head and watched her jog back towards the bookshop through the dirty window of the café. 

Ziio was incredible. During our date, after we got hot chocolate, Ziio decided it was too late to do anything else outside, and we ended up watching bad scary movies in her room and eating popcorn and making out. We discussed stupid things, like why on Earth the girl would go into the attic alone, and philosophical things, where do we go after death. I told her stories about the strange things my father did, she told me stores of her tribe. Eventually, the clock struck midnight, and I made my way back to the dorm room, where Charles pried for information on Ziio. Ziio and I hadn’t gone out on an official date since then, but we would spend time with each other on the weekends and whenever we had time after work and class. 

The words on the page were becoming just blurs, so I decided that I had already studied too long. Following my usual routine of throwing away the trash, then gathering my things, I waved at Tom and left the café, heading back to the room that I shared with Charles. 

Charles was waiting for me, it seemed. He was laying on top of his covers, book in hand, and greeted me as I walked in. 

“Haytham, how are you?” I heard him turn the page as I put away my scarf and coat. 

“Alright. It’s a bit chilly out there,” I told him. He chuckled.   
“The mail came.” 

I walked over to the desk and pulled out an thick envelope addressed to me. Edward Kenway was known for the length of his letters. “I do not see why my father insists on sending mail when he can just e-mail me. Especially, since he insists on sending me novels.”

“Your father is weird.” Another page turned. Silently, I agreed with him. 

I took the letter and laid down on my own bed, pulling the screen, that Charles and I purchased in the beginning of the year for an attempt at privacy, between us. With a quick swipe of my scissors, I pulled out the letter.

Haytham, my son,

How do your studies go? Things here have been rather dull, but what do you expect when the only people around are old. Apparently, I am expecting a grandchild. Jenny told me the other day. How strange, to think that I will be someone’s grandfather, and you will be an uncle. I suppose that is the first sign that I am getting old. 

I remember one time, while I was at sea…

I groaned to myself. My father was known for telling stories about his experiences as a sailor, but they were ridiculously farfetched. Jenny and I were convinced that he made them up. This particular one was about a man who could change his face to appear younger. My eyes scanned the rest of the letter trying to find something of worth, when I froze.

A job has opened up for you here after you graduate, Haytham. I expect you to take it, so you can be closer to your mother and I. I will e-mail you the link when I think you have received the letter (What a ridiculous notion! Conversing through a computer.) and I hope that you get it. You may enjoy America, but do not forget where you are from, son. 

See you at graduation.  
Your Father, Edward Kenway

I gripped the letter in my fist. A kook, he may be, but no one refused a direct order from my father, and I knew it was impossible to reason with him when his mind was made up. Jenny tried, but eventually succumbed and married the man that Father wanted her to and was living the life that Father wished her to live. The letter crumpled as I balled my fist in anger, gritting my teeth as I tried not to cry, something I hadn’t done in years. 

I was furious with my stupid, presumptuous Father, thinking he could just waltz in and dictate how I was supposed to live my life. I hated him. I was perfectly happy here, which I wasn’t expecting. I had friends, a room mate that I actually got along with, and Ziio. 

Most of all, I didn’t want to leave Ziio.

It would be a stretch to say that I was going to keep in contact with my current circle of friends for the rest of my life, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to them now. Ziio, I’d only just started getting to know this month, and the more I knew her, the more beautiful she was. Graduation was months away, but they would pass quickly, I know. Time always passed quickly when there was something I was trying to avoid. The only thing I could think about doing was calling Ziio. She, at least, was a source of comfort. 

I glanced at the time. It was only three. She didn’t get off until five on Thursdays, so I had to make do with more studying. My bed creaked as I threw myself back down onto it, cellphone in hand. I opened my messages, where Ziio was always the top one and sent her a message.

What are you doing after work?-H

Surprisingly, her response was quick.

Hanging out with you.

I grinned and typed back. 

Well, I’ll see you then. Your place? -H

Nope. Yours. My room mate’s boyfriend is over, remember?

Only vaguely. I think she might have mentioned him once or twice. I glanced at the screen that divided the room between Charles and I. He was shuffling around, probably looking for a different book to read. 

“Charles?” I called out.

“Hmm,” he grunted in response.

“Ziio is coming over. Just so you know.”

The screen shut with a snap and Charles poked his head into my half of the room. “Really? Finally. Now I’ll know if she’s real or not.”

Charles says it’s alright. See you at 5:30? -H

6\. I need to pick up something from my apartment. Now leave me alone. You’ll get me fired. 

My screen flashed as I shut it off and cracked open my books with a sigh. The clock read 3:12. Three hours would seem like forever.

In those three hours, I got more done than I had since I met Ziio, bringing to light exactly how much of my time I devoted to her. My economics paper was almost done, I knew my sociology back and forth, and I started my chemistry homework when I heard a knock at the door. Since the door was on Charles’ side of the room, I didn’t move, but heard him sigh and get up, opening the door with a creak.

“Well, hello,” I heard him say. 

“Hello. Charles?” Ziio’s voice said. I shuffled my things and made room for her on the bed. The divider creaked as she pushed it open and tossed her huge bag at me. It knocked the breath out of me, but I managed to wrestle it open, only to find the box sets of Glee. 

“Glee?” I questioned. Charles laughed. 

“I’m going to William’s. He’s going to want to hear about this. And there is no way in Hell I’m staying and listening to that.” The door slammed shut as he left. I didn’t move, simply holding the first season of Glee in my hand.

“Ziio. No.”

“Haytham. Yes.” She had to be joking. There was no way she was expecting me to watch this shit with her. Without asking, she got up and turned on my television. 

“Get off your lazy ass and help me turn this on,” she laughed. 

“I don’t want to watch glee, Ziio.”

Ziio sat down at the foot of my bed and ran her hands up my arms, then firmly grasped my shoulders. Her fingers were strong and sure, massaging away the stress that my father caused. Her lips tickled my ear. 

“Why not, Hayth? We can cuddle.” A shiver wormed it’s way up my spine as her fingers kept working at the knots in my shoulders. Savoring the contact, I leaned into her touch and gave in. 

“Go push that red button on the Playstation 3 and hand me the controller. Put the DVD in that slot.” 

Ziio squealed and jumped off the bed to follow my orders. I threw my covers off and crawled under them, leaving room for her in my bed. Soon enough she joined me, pressing herself against my side. My arms seemed to move on their own and wrapped around her. She started the first episode and I groaned. 

“Oh, shut up,” she teased. “You’re fine.”

We watched the entire first episode before I reached my limit. The show was irritating me, with it‘s needless drama, but I wasn‘t really paying attention to it. What I was after was the girl that was snuggled in my sheets. Her head was tucked under my chin as she chattered about what was going on on the screen and my arm was wrapped around the front of her chest, where she was playing with my fingers.

“This is dumb,” I whined, when the next episode started with another musical number. 

“Now you’re just being rude. You don’t even like it a little bit?”

“No, Ziio! Let’s see if Jeopardy is on.” I loved Jeopardy. Guessing the answers before the contestants always filled me with such joy. Ziio, apparently disagreed. The sheets shuffled as she turned to face me.

“Haytham, Jeopardy is for old people.”

“I am offended! This show-” I gestured at the TV, where they were singing, yet again. “Is for children! Jeopardy is for intelligent adults.”  
She stared. “God, you’re so weird.”

“How am I the weird one when I chose the educational program over this singing nonsense?”

“Exactly.” The covers fell off of her when she sat up to straddle me. My mind went blank for a second, and I pulled myself together to hear her talking. 

“You’re always so in control. Why don’t you let loose instead of being so… stuck up?” Her hands were flat against my abdomen. I was aware of every movement she made, and how close she was to sitting on my crotch, how warm she was, how few layers separated us. I tried thinking about things other than her straddling me. Like maggots. Maggots are gross.

“…get a new hair cut, try a different kind of food. That’s what life is about…’

Intestines. Mmmmm. Warm and steamy… No, I’ll make myself sick.

“…and it’s more fun. This way you’re more prone to having heart attacks…”

Rotten fish. Ziio stopped mid speech and squinted her eyes at me.

“Why are you making those stupid facial expressions? Haytham are you even listening to me?”

I nodded. “Of course, dear. Anything you say.” 

She sighed and climbed off, to my regret. “You’re right. Glee isn’t that masculine. We can watch something else.” Before I could answer, she pressed her lips against mine. “Anything but Jeopardy.”

I stood up and grabbed the first movie I saw, Prometheus. “Does this work?”

“Sure. I haven’t seen it yet. Is it good?”

“It’s alright.” I put the disk into my Playstation 3 and joined Ziio again in my bed, wrapping my arms around waist. 

We got to the part where the people were waking up from stasis, about 15 minutes into the movie, when she turned to face me and kissed me again. Soon enough, one hand gripped her thigh while we made out to the sounds of people being attacked by aliens. Her fingers tangled themselves into my hair after our shirts ended up being tossed to the floor, after she’d taken the time to push down my pants. She whimpered as I ground myself into her, letting go of her leg in favor of unclipping her bra. When she sat up to slide the straps down her arms, she pushed me onto my back and straddled me, for the second time that evening. I kissed a path down her jaw to her neck, slowly sucking on the skin there when I heard the door open. Ziio gasped and rolled off, pulling the covers off the bed with her. 

“Haytham, I just… What on Earth is going on here?” 

Charles‘ face contorted as I assumed he was trying not to laugh. Ziio’s eyes peeked out from under my comforter as her hand sought out her bra and shirt. I tried not to punch him, trying to preoccupy myself with pulling my pants back up and finding my shirt. The one Ziio was currently wearing. I narrowed my eyes at her before turning my attention back to Charles.

“Charles, get out,” I snapped at him. He laughed.

“Haytham, Haytham, Haytham. Wait until the rest of the guys hear this. Caught in the act.” He yelped when my controller found it’s mark. The door closed with a slam. 

“You know, it’s kind of a good thing he interrupted us, before things got too far.” Ignoring Ziio, I opened and closed my drawers, trying to find a new shirt to toss on. 

“Haytham.” Her hand gripped my arm firmly, turning me around despite me trying to hide my red face. “Let’s get real here. Do you have condoms?”

I looked away from her. This was so embarrassing. “You’re right. I need to go out and get some if we’re planning on engaging in those sorts of activities.”

The bed creaked as she sat down on it. “See? No need to worry. Next time, we’ll make sure no one is going to interrupt.”

We finished the movie in relative silence, peppered here and there by our usual meaningless conversations. I couldn’t help but be a little angry at Charles, but Ziio was right. No condoms meant unprotected sex. And unprotected sex could lead to pregnancy.

I walked Ziio out to her car after the movie was over and kissed her goodbye, knowing that we would just see each other the next day at the café, anyway.


	5. Christmas Ham

It was a little known fact, but ever since I was seven, I hated Christmas. My father once decided to play Santa, but there was no hiding who was behind that large, false beard. I remember hiding under the tree all alone, because Jenny decided that she was too old for such childish play, waiting for a glimpse of Santa Claus when I finally heard the stomping boots that signaled someone entering the living area of our home. I sat still, holding my breath, when 'Santa' let out a burp and swore, and that's when I knew my childhood was a lie. To his credit, Father attempted to play the part, but it was past midnight and he'd been drinking at a party. That night, I cried myself to sleep. When I objected to Ziio decorating my room with garlands and trees and angels, I told her the story and to my utmost dismay, she laughed until tears streamed down her face.

"Your dad is seriously the weirdest person I've ever heard of," she wheezed, wiping her face.

"It's not funny! I'm traumatized!"

"Nah, that's funny. One time, my grandmother was lighting candles on Christmas Eve and my cousin knocked them over and set the tree on fire. He got his ass beat for ruining it for all of us. It was the funniest thing I've ever seen, her chasing him around with this wooden switch, just swatting away at him. I'm pretty sure though, he's more traumatized than you. " Her eyes glittered as she recalled the memory. I laughed.

"Oh really? Jenny had a boyfriend who'd been over a few times, but Father was usually on his best behavior and Jenny's boyfriend was spared the brunt of my father's idiocy. He was a nice boy, and my Father liked him, so, naturally, he staged a farting competition. In front of Jenny. At the table. During Christmas dinner. I have never seen Jenny cry like that since," I told her, pulling down some of the tinsel that was taped to my ceiling fan. Ziio's frame shook from where she lay on the floor, convulsing with giggles. I watched her, her face turning a darker red and started growing worried that maybe I'd killed her when she gasped for air, loudly.

"Oh fuck, my ribs!" she howled, her arms wrapped around herself, as if she were holding herself together. "You win! You win!"

"Actually, I think Jenny wins that one."

"If my dad was as weird as yours," she said, picking herself off the ground and dusting glitter off of her shirt. "I would never bring anyone over."

"I never did."

"Smart lad," she mocked me. Her accent was getting better, but I still cringed.

Her back to me, Ziio dragged her fingers through the fake snow that earlier, she'd thrown on the ground, humming to herself. The bed creaked as I sat back down. The tinsel whispered against the sides of the trashcan. From outside, extremely loud holiday music was playing and despite living in Boston for about two years now, I still didn't know most of the music played at department stores. Ziio took a breath and kept humming along, leaning into my legs.

"You know, you can have Christmas dinner with my family if you want. It would just be me and my mom anyway." She rolled her eyes up to look at me. "No farting contests. I swear. Plus, Ishta wants to meet you."

I chewed the inside of my cheek. If I met her family, maybe Ziio would expect me to reciprocate and since Father was all the way in London, that was just not going to happen. Even if he came here, I did not want him to potentially ruin the only good thing that came out of Boston. Without my consent, my head nodded in agreement and I wondered what I'd gotten into. She grinned and pulled me down to press her lips against mine.

"It'll be fine," she murmured against my lips. "She'll like you."

"I'm not worried about that," I replied. "I just don't think you should meet my parents."

She pouted. "Why not?"

"Farting contest," I reminded her. She laughed.

"Fair enough. I've got to go to work now." She stood up and I mirrored her, then walked her out to the front door of my dormitory. The snow spiraled down, blanketing Boston in a cold, frozen blanket. Some cars drove by, leaving tracks in the dark brown sludge covering the streets.

When her car finally drove out of my sight, I scrambled upstairs. Christmas was in less than a week and still had no idea what to get Ziio. I'd already obtained the newest Mumford and Sons CD, which I knew she wanted, but for someone with such a large impact on my life, a CD just didn't seem enough. Charles' advice to get her jewelry wasn't valid either, as Ziio didn't wear much jewelry, but I wondered if maybe I should get her some anyway. Grabbing my wallet, I drove out to one of the jewelry stores. All the stones and rings and necklaces were overwhelming. I knew nothing about them

"May I help you?" the assistant asked.

"I'm getting a gift for a girl. She doesn't wear jewelry often, but I thought maybe if she had something really nice, she was at least prepared for an occasion, you know?" I answered, lamely. The lady didn't react, other than pull me towards one of the stands. Inside glittered earrings.

"Earrings are the easiest way to add jewelry to an outfit without catching on things, the way a necklace or a bracelet might. I would recommend we start there."

I looked at all the different pairs. "Like diamond earrings?"

"That's a good start. How about something like this?" She gestured toward a pair of long, dangly earrings. I shook my head.

"I think those might be a bit too much for her. Umm, can I see those?" I pointed at a pair of diamond studs. The woman smiled.

"Ah. ½ Karat princess cut diamond studs. I believe every woman should own a pair of diamond studs. They add glamour to an otherwise bland outfit."

"I'll take them."

When I got home, I instantly wrapped the CD and the earrings and put them into a gift bag and hid the bag in one of my drawers, waiting for Charles to come home so we could get dinner.

Christmas came in a flurry of snow and a blizzard warning for later that night. Bundled up in my Hyundai, Ziio and I made our way down to the small town, about an hour and half, out of Boston where her mother lived. My stomach hurt and I gripped the wheel so hard my knuckles were white. Ziio turned the music down.

"It's not going to be that bad you know? She's super excited to meet you." She paused to let me answer. When I didn't, she continued. "I know you're nervous, but you'll see. My mom is extremely relaxed."

"What if I say something wrong, or offensive? Ziio I don't know your culture."

"She knows and understands that, Haytham. If you say something wrong, she'll correct you and explain why." She reached over and pried my hand from the steering wheel, gripping my fingers tightly and pressing her lips against them. "You'll have fun. I promise." I could feel her smile.

"We're almost there," I croaked. Sure enough, Ziio pointed me down a long dirt road until we reached a little blue house. There was a shed to the left and I pulled up between the shed and the SUV parked by the house. We dashed to the front door and I held up my hand to knock when the door flew open. On the other side was as woman a few inches shorter than me who looked quite a bit like Ziio. She shouted something in Mohawk and Ziio responded the same and leaned down to hug her. The woman grabbed me and hugged me as well.

"Mr. Haytham! It is extremely nice to meet you!" she exclaimed. "I'm Ziio's mom!"

"I am extremely happy to meet you, Mrs. Charmaine." She waved her hand as she led us into the small house. The interior was warm and homey, with pictures of Ziio everywhere. The living room was neat and the smell of ham came wafting in from the kitchen.

"Dinner will be ready soon, dear," she told me, after taking my coat. I followed her into the kitchen.

"Is there any way that I can help?"

"No, no. You just get ready to eat." She smiled and pushed me out of the kitchen. "I don't want to see you two until dinner is served!"

Ziio laughed and answered in Mohawk and pulled me down the hallway into the first room on the right. The walls were painted a dark blue color and covered in posters of art and movies. I pointed to the Titanic one.

"You only like that movie because Leonardo Di Caprio is in it."

"No I don't! It's a great movie!" She laughed and sat on the bed, patting the spot next to her. I sat down and we lay there in silence. I heard footsteps coming down the hall and sat up as the door opened.

"Ziio? Haytham? The weather reports say that the blizzard hit earlier and harder than expected so you'll have to stay here, in the guest room. I have toothbrushes and stuff too, so you won't have to go without." I smiled up at her.

"Thank you so much. I hope I won't be too much of a problem. I know that the-"

Ziio interrupted me. "You know, we're adults. Haytham can stay in my room with me. My bed's big enough."

"Kaniehti:io! That's not happening!" She looked scandalized.

"Ishta, it's the twenty first century! We don't have to be married-"

I cut in. "I'll stay in the guest room. When is dinner? I'm starving." I waited nervously for Ziio's mother to answer and was grateful when she finally did.

"In about twenty minutes," she said, smiling at me before walking out the door, leaving the door open almost pointedly. Ziio groaned.

"Dammit. I hate this blizzard."

"It's fine, Ziio. Really."

"But she acts like we're children still. Like, when I first told her about you, she gave me the 'talk.' Really? I'm twenty-one. I don't need you to parent me anymore!" I let her rant for a couple more minutes before cutting in.

"Ziio, she's your mother. She only wants what's best for you. It'll be alright. When we get back to Boston, she can't tell you what to do, but this is her house." She didn't answer but lay back down, and together we listened to the sound of the blizzard raging outside until her mother announced dinner.

Dinner was an enjoyable affair. Ziio's mother was hilarious and we spent hours laughing and trading stories. I offered up tales of my father's idiocy and retaliated with memories of Ziio, growing up, much to Ziio's disdain. Through out the night, we picked at the food until I felt fit to burst, but I kept eating anyway. Ziio had apparently told her about my love for hot chocolate, since she offered me cup after cup of homemade hot chocolate to help combat the chill of the blizzard that we could slowly feel creeping in through the glass of the windows. Eventually, we got tired and brought out a toothbrush and some flannel pajama pants that were too big for me, but I was grateful for them. Before retreating into the guest room, I kissed Ziio good night and left her grumbling at her door way. The bed was warm and I pulled up the covers and closed my eyes.


	6. Christmas Ham, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pun intended.

The sound of the wind, whistling outside, rattled the windows with their force, and no matter what I tried, the knocking of various debris outside kept me from sleeping, and with my eyes shut, I tried to count sheep when I heard footsteps, and the sound of my door opening. Ziio slowly closed the door behind her and pulled the covers back, crawling in bed next to me.

"Sorry about the weather," she whispered, pressing her nose into the side of my neck. The places where she touched me, I could feel how warm she was.

"It's alright," I whispered back, wiggling to get down to her level.

My thumb brushed her lip as I pulled her face closer to mine so I could kiss her. The taste of her toothpaste was on her tongue and I reveled in the fact that out of all the men that she'd dated in her life, it was me that she decided to bring home for Christmas dinner. Her hands slid up my abdomen, finally resting on my shoulders, nails lightly scratching the entire way up. I pulled back, panting.

"Wait, we're at your Mom's house."

She narrowed her eyes. "So?" Her hands gripped me tight, and she tugged me against her. "That's not a problem."

I could see the moonlight glint on her teeth. "Ziio, I didn't think we'd end up stuck here, so I don't have condoms."

"Ugh. Aren't boys supposed to keep them in their wallets?"

"No. That makes them break easier."

She groaned, and I felt like agreeing. We hadn't had a lot of opportunities lately where we could have sex, since finals just finished up. Charles was a constant presence in the dorm room, and Ziio's room mate was extremely against premarital sex, despite it not even being any of her business what Ziio and I did while she was home. To me, it was as if the world was just a huge cockblock. But, there was no reason to subject Ziio to the same torment. My hand behind her knee, I used the leverage to maneuver myself on top of her. She squeaked.

"What are you doing?" she asked as I pushed her overly large t shirt up to her chest, leaving everything below exposed. I didn't answer, choosing to start kissing at the bottom of the grey sports bra. She inhaled a long raggedy breath, and my relief, stopped talking. I was nervous, since I'd never even considered going down on a girl and anything she said might have changed my mind.

My hands smoothed their way down her body, until I reached the seam of her panties and I slowly reached in, cupping her buttocks. I kissed and licked my way down to the juncture of her thighs, when Ziio sat up.

"Fuck, Haytham, I- I didn't shave," she admitted, probably blushing. It was too dark to tell.

"Ziio, it can't be that bad. You're pretty meticulous about it." And she was, I found out once, during a heated session in my car that started with my hands down her pants and ended with her scrabbling for tissues after I finished.

"Yeah, but it's all scratchy."

"Sometimes I don't shave my face and it's stubbly and you still kiss me," I reminded her, then pushed her back down, where she lay still. Her underwear slid down her legs easily and I rolled my eyes. With the way she was behaving, I was expecting more than the miniscule amount of hair there was. I shrugged and bent my head down, kissing the inside of her thighs, leaving a trail of bite marks unit I reached her core. Ignoring my doubts, I kissed her there, hearing her gasp, and then slid my tongue between them.

She didn't taste at all like I imagined she would. Instead of the bitter taste I was expecting, there was no taste at all. I parted her lips and sucked at the top. Ziio inhaled, sharply and I took this as a sign to proceed, and kept alternating between licking and sucking. I felt her fingers thread through my hair, holding me there. Her breaths grew shorter and more ragged, and soon enough, I felt her thighs starting to shake and I looked up, watching her as she bit her lips, her eyes shut.

"Don't fucking stop," she hissed and I bent back down, holding her hips in place until her back arched off of the bed, her toes curled, and with a whisper of "oh, Haytham," she peaked. Ignoring my almost painful erection, I crawled back up her body to hold her. After a couple of minutes, she spoke.

"I don't even know what to say."

"I haven't done that before," I told her. She raised her eyebrows at me.

"I don't believe you."

"It's true!" She rolled her eyes.

"Okay, but what about you?"

"What do you- oh!" Her hands caressed me through the fabric of my boxers. "Ziio, I'm a little messier than you are, and this is a bed that belongs to your mom. I want her to like me." The last part came out in rush of words as I felt her fingers slide into my underwear and stroke me.

"I'll swallow." Her eyes glittered, mischievously, and she grinned before kicking the covers off the bed and yanking my boxers down with less grace than I showed while undressing her, but as her fingers wrapped themselves around my dick, I could have cared less. Slowly stroking, her eyes never left mine as she kissed the very tip, letting her tongue swirl around the top, her hand still gripping me at the base while her other hand cupped my balls. I bit my tongue as she took more of me in, groaning as I felt her tongue trace patterns under the tip of my cock in that sensitive spot. I reached down to stroke her hair in encouragement.

With her bobbing between my thighs, it didn't take me long to finish. True to her word, nothing got on the sheets and she grinned cheekily at me when I finally came down from my high. She pulled my boxers up, kissed my head, and padded out of the room.


	7. Hot Chocoloate Indeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been FOREVER. Summer came and I wanted nothing to do with anything that might resemble an essay. Enjoy your long awaited update and feel free to review. They keep me going. -Raynie.

The blizzard left the world blanketed in white, glittering and blinking in the morning sun. My head throbbed as my retinas contracted, looking out for the first time. I groaned.

"Shut up," Ziio grumbled without looking up, turning another page in her book. "The plows will come by soon."

"It's not that. I just don't really like snow that much."

"Why not?" The couch springs squeaked as I sat down next to her.

"I just don't. It gets all tainted to quickly and it's cold and it soaks into my socks and-" I stopped. Ziio was staring at me, her eyes narrowed.

I understood. Her mother, as kind as she was, could be a bit overbearing. She'd asked Ziio probably hundreds of times to do trivial chores around the house, ones that I ended up doing to keep Ziio from murdering her mother. Apparently, with her, cabin fever set in quickly.

I groaned again, remembering how stupid I was to leave her Christmas gift at my dorm room. When the time came to unwrap presents, Ziio and her mother handed me a gorgeous quilt, to help liven up my room a little. It was awkward to explain that I forgot her Christmas present at my dorm room, since at the time, I assumed we would be going back there for the night, not get snowed in. Ziio didn't seem to really care, but since then, her temper with me was short and I'd taken to avoiding her, choosing instead to stare out the window at the snow I hated so much.

Without warning, I jerked awake at the sound of the plow. My neck was cramped from the position that I'd dozed off in, knees pulled up with my head resting on the back of the couch so I could stare out the window. There was a snap as Ziio shut her book.

"Oh, look. It's our way out of here," she said, sweetly.

Our things were already packed, we just needed to say bye to Ziio's mother. Her arms were stronger than I expected, as I leaned down to hug her, and I thanked her for letting me stay.

"Come by anytime, Haytham. And keep an eye on my Ziio for me!" I waved goodbye as we pulled out of the driveway.

"Thank God," Ziio muttered. "I cannot stand staying with her. I like visiting every now and then, but that was too much."

"Ziio, she's probably lonely."

"There's a reason why no one comes and visits."

I laughed. "You think she's bad? You haven't-"

"Yeah, yeah. You have a weird Dad. I know." She slammed the car door shut, knocking a bunch of snow off the top of the car. Just like I'd predicted, by the time I managed to wrestle the car door open, my socks were thoroughly soaked. For the umpeenth time that day, I groaned and swore.

"My socks."

"Boo fucking hoo. Let's go."

The drive back was peaceful. The snow in the fields was so pure but the road had already turned the nearby snow gray and dark with filth. I watched Ziio wrinkle her nose at it, but she looked back down and continued reading her book until we reached the outer limits of Boston, where if it weren't for the presence of snow on the roof tops, it looked like it's typical dark, damp self. I pulled into my dorm room and Ziio and I went in, just to get away from the bite of the wind.

Apparently, Charles had a party while I was snowed in at Ziio's mother's house. In addition to the stupid decorations Ziio put up before we left, there were streamers all around the room, glitter scattered across the floor and the bed and empty bottles of wine clinked as I knocked them into each other with my foot. Ziio started laughing.

"Looks like Charles had a great Christmas."

He was slumped over in a sitting position, bottle still in hand, party hat on his dark head. A pair of woman's panties were wrapped around his head. I thought about checking for a purse, but he gave a snort and leaned down, going back to sleep. Ziio couldn't contain her laughter and stumbled out into the hallway, where I could hear her giggling. Stepping over Charles, I grabbed her earrings and followed Ziio out into the hallway before taking her home.

The entire time we were at her mother's, I thought of ways to tell her about how I wasn't going to be staying in the US after my last semester of school. I didn't know if Ziio would come with me to England, but I knew for a fact she would be unhappy there. In Boston, she seemed so free and a part of me wished I could be the same way, but my father's word was law and I couldn't go against it. I didn't know how serious Ziio considered us, but I bet she still wouldn't be pleased to find out that I was leaving her.

"Why so serious," Ziio asked, in a mock Joker voice.

"Just some stuff. School and stuff. You know?" She raised an eye brow.

"Okay don't tell me then. I'll have it out of you, eventually." Ziio always knew when I was lying and I knew she was right. Of course she was going to find out. I was just afraid of her reaction when she did.

In her room, which was suspiciously decoration free, we climbed up on her bed and I handed her the box with her earrings and her CD. She squealed when she saw the CD and popped it into her computer, Mumford and Sons filling the room. The earrings met a completely different response.

"Jesus Christ, Haytham. How much did you pay for these?"

"It's not a big deal. Happy Christmas!"

"Don't you 'Happy Christmas' me. Haytham, why?"

"Ziio, they're just earrings." She turned to look at me, her brown eyes wide.

"Oh, Haytham." She set the earrings down on the shelf by her bed, where they were quickly forgotten.

Ziio had an amazing ability to exude warmth with every touch and she never failed to disappoint. I gripped her thigh as she ground into my, my bottom lip between her teeth and I forgot everything but her. My father, the earrings, nothing mattered but her. I fisted my hand in her hair, gripping her in place while I nipped at her throat and wiggled my way between her legs. We ground against each other until the friction became too much and my pants made their way to the floor. Her panties weren't as fortunate. What was left of them ended up tangled in the sheets with us as I ripped open a foil packet and Ziio rolled the condom on.

She was warm and tight, just like I liked to imagine in the privacy of my bedroom when Charles was away. Her small gasps and moans were better than in my imagination though, how she hooked her ankles behind my back, her nails digging into me, urging me to move faster. I breathed in her smell, our smell, and committed this moment into my memory. With her name on my lips, I came and she did too, not long after.

"Merry Christmas, Haytham," she whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Ziio," I answered. I held her as her breathing slowed and I fell asleep shortly after she did.

The next morning I woke up to our clothes littering the floor, of Ziio's bedroom. Cracking my neck, I hopped down off her bed, kicking clothes around as I searched for my pants. I picked up the earrings that we'd knocked down some time in the night and I set them down on her desk, next to her laptop. After I found my pants, I made my way into the kitchen, with the intent to cook breakfast before I had to leave. I had an appointment with the advisor, to discuss plans for my future as an employer of whatever company my father commanded. I scowled and pulled open the refrigerator, hunting for ingredients.

To my disgust, the refrigerator was empty, except for a bottle of ketchup, three cans of beer and a carton with four eggs. I blinked. At least she had coffee. That I knew for a fact. I dug around her cupboards until I found some beans and a grinder and set out to make some coffee. I felt bad. I didn't have enough ingredients to make a proper breakfast.

"Sorry, Ziio. Maybe next time," I muttered to myself as I turned the coffee machine on. I dug through my wallet and pulled out a twenty. Scribbling a note, I left it on the counter for her.

For some groceries. Next time I'll make breakfast.

-Haytham

I peeked in her bedroom and just observed her. Her limbs were splayed everywhere, already reclaiming the space in her bed that I had occupied. Finding the rest of my clothes too a while, since they had been thrown every which way, but I got dressed, and left, gently closing the door behind me.

My breath made small clouds in the crisp morning weather, as I made my way to my car. I started the engine and just sat a minute while the car warmed, my head resting on the steering wheel. I groaned as I thought about the mistake Ziio and I had made last night. She had no idea that I was going back to London after the semester was over, and I had no idea how to tell her. This entire situation was stupid, and completely my fault. I groaned. She was going to kill me.

While I was afraid of her getting angry, I was angry at myself for having to leave. I did not want to leave her. She'd become a part of me, the thing I looked forward to every day, the thing I thought about going to sleep. She was my motivation, my drive, and I was completely, unmistakably, hers.


End file.
